The blue light of the computer monitors hummed, casting a pale glow over the spreadsheets Elara was supposed to be finishing. But the numbers were blurring. Every time she blinked, she wasn't looking at her desk; she was back in that heavy, suffocating silence of the Draeven study.
She could still feel the phantom chill of the manor. It was a place that emitted a bone-deep energy, a weight that had made her feel weak and given her chills the moment she stepped inside. She hadn't told Lucas; she didn't want to seem fragile, especially since she knew the history between their clans was not on good terms. She had done her research—calling her grandparents and digging for the truth. She knew their clans weren't just rivals; they were old wounds that refused to close.
And then, Regulus had looked at her with those eyes that saw too much.
“Do you love him?”
The question had felt like an accusation. Did they really think they were in love? Her heart had hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She felt the heat of embarrassment crawl up her neck—a searing, clumsy embarrassment. She didn’t look up. She couldn't. She kept her gaze anchored to the floor beneath her feet, her head bowed to hide the flush on her cheeks.
“I don’t know yet,” she had whispered.
Her own voice sounded foreign to her—low, small, and terrifyingly honest. She wasn't sure if it was love. She’d had crushes in high school and college, but this? This was different. She had spent years as a fan, stanning him from a distance back when he was still an actor. She remembered that heartbreak—the way the industry went silent when his onscreen partner died, and the way he just disappeared. She had mourned for a stranger then.
Now, that stranger was the man she was tied to.
“And you?” Regulus had turned to him.
She had braced herself. She knew the answer before he even opened his mouth, yet hearing it was different.
“I know my responsibility,” Lucas had said, his voice quiet. “That has to be enough for now.”
In the quiet of the study, his voice had felt like a slow-motion film. Each syllable was a deliberate, jagged edge. It didn't just hurt; it felt like a thin blade had reached inside her chest and executed a slow, shallow scratch across her heart. It was a "stingy" kind of pain—the kind that doesn't make one scream, but makes it hard to breathe.
He was being nice. He was being a "good man." But as she stared at her flickering cursor, the reality tasted like ash. He was doing this out of obligation. To him, she wasn't a choice; she was a task—a "responsibility" he had inherited with the seal.
She remembered the way he’d escorted her to the car later that night. He had refused his grandfather’s offer for them to stay, sensing her exhaustion and telling them she was tired from work. He’d walked her out with the house staff trailing behind like a scene from a movie she used to watch him in.
“Are you okay, Elara?” he’d asked.
She had forced a smile—the kind one practices in the mirror until it looks real.
“Yes... of course. Thank you for tonight.”
Then, for the first time, he had reached out. Not a hug. Not a hand-hold. Just a firm, steady tap on her back.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he’d said. “And you’re welcome.”
That was the last time she’d seen him. It's been what? A week? That tap on her back felt like a goodbye, even though they were bound for life.
THWACK.
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, jolting her out of the memory. She gasped, spinning her chair around to find her close friend Mina standing there, her eyebrows knitted in concern.
“Hey, Elara? You, okay?” Mina asked, leaning against her desk. “I've observed you’re always staring blankly as if your mind is drifting somewhere. Do you have a problem? You can share it with me, you know.”
She forced her lungs to take in a normal amount of air. She offered her a small, shaky smile and shook her head.
“Nothing,” she lied, her voice slightly hoarse.
“I think I just... I miss my family.”
Mina softened, clearly buying the excuse. She patted her arm sympathetically.
“Then go home, girl. File a leave and just go home for a bit. You look like you're seeing ghosts.”